Amity Park, MI
by attu
Summary: Written for Day 15 of Phanniemay '16: SyFy (SciFi) Sam Manson is an agent of the FBI on a seemingly ordinary case: find and arrest the recently escaped Jonas Lester, thought to be headed back to his hometown: Amity Park, Michigan. Once she gets there, however, she realizes that this town has more to it than what meets the eye... A DP/Haven crossover.


**Amity Park, MI**

 _Written for Phanniemay '16, Day 15: SyFy (SciFi)_

* * *

Sam Manson woke up groggily to a pounding at her door. She yawned and stretched, feeling the tightness in her muscles. She looked around lazily before she noted the bright light streaming in through the window. The pounding at the door suddenly made sense.

"Shit," she whispered, wrenching the covers away and launching to her feet. What time was it? It had to be nearly noon what with the sun being as bright as it was. She grabbed a pair of sweatpants hanging off a chair and pulled them on quickly, trying not to trip over her clothing as she hopped towards the door to her small apartment.

She opened the door and the man on the other side froze mid-knock, looking her up and down knowingly. She suddenly felt very underdressed in her worn out sports bra, tank top and sweatpants.

"Agent Omega," she said, trying her best to sound unsurprised. "I wasn't expecting you so early. Come in." She stepped aside to let him into the room.

Her superior officer smiled. "It's eleven a.m., Agent Manson. I didn't realize you were such a late sleeper." He walked passed her and looked around the room absentmindedly. Sam realized too late that she'd left the trashy romance novel she'd been reading sitting on the kitchen table. Agent Omega had already picked it up, scanning the back cover with amused interest. "I didn't think you were one for these sorts of novels, either. Ghosts?" He remarked, one eyebrow raised.

Sam sorted through several possible replies before mentally tossing them aside, deciding honesty was the best policy in this case. "They're relaxing, sir. Most top-selling books aren't different enough from my day job. I don't see any ghosts when I'm on a case."

"Not yet, anyway," Agent Omega replied, adjusting the lapels on his purple coat.

Sam had never heard her commanding officer joke. Was he joking? "Sir?"

"Just a comment," he answered cryptically. "I've got a new case for you, Manson. Retrieval."

Straight to business as usual, Sam thought, shelving her curiosity in the back of her mind for later. "So soon after the last one, sir?"

"You were the agent we thought best for the job. I recommended you myself," Agent Omega said, pulling a manilla folder out of his coat and holding it out to her.

Sam took it and thumbed through it, scanning for any immediately useful information. "Amity Park, Michigan?" She asked curiously. "What's up there?"

"Amity Park is the hometown of one Jonas Lester, a criminal who escaped from prison two days ago. We have reason to believe that he may be headed back there."

"Any leads on why?" Sam asked.

"Reports say Lester still has friends in the area. Possible accomplices. We need to send an agent up there immediately to investigate."

"On it, sir. But one thing," Sam said.

"What do you need?" Agent Omega asked, the jagged scar under his eye stretching as his eyebrow rose.

"Mind if I change first?"

Sam spotted a sign up ahead. "Amity Park, Michigan," it read. She was sure the writing underneath stated the population but the numbers were too small to read from a distance. She squinted at it anyways, curious as to how big the town was. It hadn't been listed in her report but based on the location she'd assumed it was a small one.

Movement on the road up ahead caught her eye and she turned her attention back to the road just in time to see a huge crack open up in the asphalt. The ground shuddered and the crack widened into a huge gap. Sam jerked the wheel to the side and the car swerved off the road, She narrowly avoided the crack but gasped as the car's path looked to take her right over the edge of the lakeside cliff bordering the road. She slammed on the brakes barely in time and the front of her car went over the edge, tipping precariously.

Everything was suddenly still. Sam managed to pry her eyes open and turned her head slightly from side to side. The radio had changed channels somehow during the commotion; it no longer played the death metal that she liked to listen to as she drove. Instead, a sickeningly bright pop tune blared from the speakers. She leaned forward to turn the tuning knob. The car started to tip forward alarmingly and she slammed her back into the seat, leaning back as far as she could to keep the car from going over the edge.

"Oh _hell_ no. I am not dying to this," she said, gritting her teeth to try again. A quiet tapping came from the passenger side door and she looked up to see someone standing next to the car. She jumped, causing the car to lurch again. The man motioned for her to roll down the window. She slowly reached over and pushed the button for the passenger side window. The man waited for it to roll all the way down before speaking.

"Need some help?" He asked calmly. Calmly?

"No, no, I think I've got it all under control here. Thanks," Sam snapped back sarcastically.

"Alright. See you around," the man said, disappearing from her view through the window.

"Wait, what? That was sarcasm! Please, come back!" Sam yelled through the open window, leaning sideways to try to see where the man had gone.

Another tapping, this time right next to her face, caused her to jump again. She whipped her head around to glare at the man. He motioned again for her to roll down the window. She did so and he spoke quietly, but quickly. "I'm going to need you to unbuckle your seat belt and unlock the door. Okay?"

She nodded, one hand depressing the seat belt release button while the other unlocked the car. The car swayed as she made even these slight movements and she hissed in a breath, clutching at the sides of her seat nervously.

"On three," the man said. "One, two, three!" He wrenched open the car door and grabbed her out of her seat, pulling her out of the car just as it tilted forward and fell onto the rocks below.

Sam let out a shaky breath as the man set her down and she stood on solid ground for what seemed like the first time in ages. "Guess I'm not getting anything back on that rental," she muttered, leaning forward to view the wreckage. The man, tall and skinny she could see now, leaned over to look at the car, as well. As he did, his coat fell open, revealing a familiar glint of metal...

"Freeze!" Sam shouted suddenly, pulling her gun out of her hip holster and aiming it at the man. "FBI, who are you?"

The man started and whipped out his own gun, training it on her. "Amity Park PD, who are you?"

"FBI, as I just said," Sam replied irritably. "Lower your weapon and put your hands in the air."

"Not until I see some ID," he replied warily, eyes narrowed. Sam noticed that they were a very bright blue, bluer than she'd ever seen.

Sam sighed and took one hand off of her gun, reaching into her pocket to get her badge.

"Hey, hands where I can see 'em," the man said, gesturing with his gun.

"You wanted to see some ID, right? What am I going to do, pull out another gun?" Sam said sarcastically, wiggling her free hand mock-menacingly.

The man stared at her for a second then signed, cocking his gun to the side. "Go ahead."

She pulled out her FBI badge and held it out for him to see, tilting it so he could view both the badge and the ID printed with her picture. "You've seen mine. How about yours?"

Holding his gun steady, the man pulled out a leather case much like hers and flipped it open, holding it so that she could see the detective's badge and the picture. He made a face, mimicking the picture on the ID.

"Are we good?" Sam asked warily.

"Yeah," the man said, holstering his gun. Sam did the same. "What can I do you for, Agent…?"

"Manson. Special Agent Sam Manson," she replied. "I'd appreciate a ride into town, Detective…?"

"Fenton. Detective Danny Fenton," the man replied in kind, holding out a hand. She shook it, then looked around for his car. She passed over the vehicle she spotted initially. No way that hunk of junk was a police cruiser. When no other cars came into her field of vision, she was forced to stare back at the first...thing.

"That's a police cruiser? What kind of town is this?" She asked incredulously.

"I've had this since I was sixteen," Detective Fenton replied proudly, gazing at the menacing silver and green vehicle. "Gift from my dad. It's fully outfitted all-terrain vehicle." He held the door open for her and she stepped up and into it, settling into the seat. She pulled the door closed behind her, starting when the door bounced off of the hand Fenton was resting in the door frame.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" Sam cried, grabbing his hand to examine it.

He snatched his hand out of her fingers. "It's alright. Didn't feel it," he said shortly, closing her door and walking around the front of the car.

"Didn't feel it?" Sam asked the empty interior of the vehicle. "Tough guy, huh?" She muttered, buckling herself in with what was more of a harness than a seat belt. "What a character."

The detective opened the driver's side door and got in, pulling a set of keys out of his jeans pocket. He turned the key in the ignition and the vehicle rumbled to life. With a deft series of movements only achievable by one who'd been driving such a monstrosity since he was sixteen, he guided the vehicle around the crack in the road and started driving back into town.

"So, do earthquakes like that happen often?" Sam asked, trying to make small talk. She still felt bad about his hand. She'd had her hand caught in a car door before and it was in no way something that someone just shook off.

"More or less," Fenton replied. "Amity Park's built on a big shelf of limestone. It settles sometimes and we get episodes like that."

"Jeez. Can't be easy to patch those up in a small town like this," Sam said, peering through the windows at the small colorful lakeside houses as they passed by.

"We're better at dealing with it than you'd think," the detective replied cryptically. Sam didn't feel like trying to pry more answers out of him, so she crossed her arms and sat back in her seat to check out the town as they drove through. It was a small town to be sure, right on the banks of Lake Michigan. The harbor came into view as they crested a hill; small fishing boats rocked in the gentle lake tides of the late afternoon.

They reached the police station, a no-nonsense square brick building no different from any other small-town police headquarters… except for the huge neon sign on the roof. "POLICEWORKS" the sign displayed proudly, blue and green light reflecting onto the people and cars below despite the bright yellow and orange rays of the sun, which was ever-so-slowly becoming lower in the sky. Below the text, a bright red flashing arrow pointed down at the door below.

"Interesting advertisement you've got there," Sam remarked, holding back laughter. "Did you guys have trouble with cops not being able to find their way to work?"

The detective looked up at the sign, a resigned look on his face. "That's, umm.. Consider it a personal aesthetic choice of the Chief's husband."

"Interesting character, your Chief of Police? Or rather, her husband? His husband?" Sam added, trying to be inclusive.

"Her husband. And you could say that," Fenton said, long legs easily ascending the red brick steps two at a time. Sam nearly had to run to keep up with him. They hadn't made it two steps into the station before a uniformed cop jogged up to the detective, calling his name.

"Danny! Glad I caught you. You didn't answer your radio," the officer said, stopping in front of the two.

"Sorry about that. Had to perform an impromptu rescue. Can you inform the road repair people that the eastern road into town's cracked?"

"Sure thing. Wait, again? We just finished patching that up a month ago," the officer grumbled.

"It's happening that frequently? I didn't know any sort of limestone or otherwise shifted like that," Sam said.

Fenton shared a strange look with the officer. "Welcome to Amity Park, Agent Manson."

Sam opened her mouth to ask what that was about, but the detective interrupted her. "What were you trying to catch me on the radio for, Brady?"

Officer Brady straightened. "It's the Chief, sir. She wants you out on the Point. We've got a body."

Detective Fenton turned. "I never asked why you were in town, Agent. Does this have anything to do with you?"

"Can't know 'til we find out who it is," Sam replied. If they could be cryptic, so could she. "Shall we, detective?"

They reached the Point fifteen minutes later. The Point, as it turned out, was a part of the beach on the lake overlooked by a cliff. Yellow police tape already cordoned off most of the beach and officers milled around, checking the beach carefully for evidence. Detective Fenton waved a greeting at the pair of officers manning the police line and they raised the tape for him to duck under. Sam made as if to follow, but the tape was abruptly lowered in her face.

"We're sorry, ma'am, we can't let you pass. Police only," one of the officers said, holding a hand out.

"It's alright, I'm FBI and I'm here with Detective Fenton," she said, pulling out her badge and holding it out for the officers to see. When the officers made no move to let her passed, she tilted her body to look around the officers at the detective's retreating back. "Detective? A little help here?"

The man turned around and beckoned at the officers. "It's alright guys, you can let her through. She's with me."

The officers stepped aside and held the tape for her to walk under, as well. She took her time walking to catch up with Fenton, looking behind her to watch the trail of footprints left in the sand by her clunky military boots. She may have been dressed in a pantsuit for work, but her boots were the one breach of dress code she allowed herself. Well, that and her purple lipstick. Steel toes came in handy on the job more often than HR would assume and as an individual she just needed to make something personal about her work outfit.

The detective seemed to realize what she was doing, but waited for her anyways, lips twitching in what may have been amusement. They walked together towards the center of police attention where a body very obviously lay dead on the sand. The officers were taking orders from a ginger-haired woman wearing a teal pantsuit, badge hanging around her neck. She spotted the detective and waved the officers away as he approached. She looked as if she was about to speak before she spotted Sam at Fenton's side.

"Detective Fenton. About time you got here," she said coolly.

"What have we got here, Chief?" Fenton asked, gesturing at the body.

Sam stepped around the detective to get a better look at the dead man's face. "Damn," she said. "This is the guy I was sent to retrieve. Have you ID'd the body yet?"

"I never forget a local. Jonas Lester," the Chief answered. "We heard he'd escaped prison a few days ago but I never assumed he'd be stupid enough to come back here. Who are you with?"

"I'm with the FBI. Special Agent Sam Manson," Sam said, stepping forward and offering her hand.

The other woman shook it. "Chief Fenton. Sorry to tell you but looks like you're not bringing Lester back to prison."

Sam looked back at the detective, a question already forming on her lips. The man shook his head slightly, cutting her off before she'd even asked. Not one to waste time, she turned back to the chief of police. "Only makes my job easier, but I'd like to know who killed him. The FBI doesn't like loose ends."

"That's what Detective Fenton is here for. Sometimes he actually does his job," the Chief said.

"I do my best," the man replied dryly.

"What's the working cause of death right now?" Sam asked, looking over the corpse. "Doesn't seem to be any blood. Blunt force?"

"Looks like he jumped off the cliff," the Chief said. "Suicide's the current theory, but we do a full homicide investigation just in case. Procedure."

Sam looked from the body to the cliff above. "A little far for a man to jump, don't you think?"

"We get some pretty strong winds here on the coast. They probably gave him a bit of a lift and carried him farther away from the cliff," said the Chief.

"Do you, now?" Sam asked, skeptical. "Well, if it's quite alright with you, Chief Fenton, I'd like to join in on Detective Fenton's investigation, if only to clear things up for my superiors."

"If you must I won't keep you from doing your job, but that's Detective Fenton's choice," the Chief replied. "I don't tell my detectives how to solve cases, only that they have to solve them. Not that there's much of a case here, just a routine sweep. It's pretty clearly a suicide."

"Detective Fenton?" Sam asked, turning to the raven-haired man. "Mind if I tag along?"

"Something tells me I wouldn't be able to keep you off of this case if I tried, Agent Manson," the detective said wryly.

"That's quite an observation, Detective. Have we met before?" Sam asked, nodding at the Chief and beginning to walk away. The man nodded farewell as well and fell into step alongside Sam, long strides across the sand soon forcing her to increase her pace.

"Just good at my job, Agent. And Detective's too formal. Call me Danny," he said.

"Only if you call me Sam," she replied.

"Deal."

* * *

 **A/N:**

I meant to write more of this, but it's getting close to this year's Phanniemay and I still haven't finished/posted everything I wrote for last year's. What's here is close enough to an initial chapter anyways, right? Also partially posting to see if there's enough interest in this niche crossover to write any more since this was mostly for my own "what if" with two series that I really love. Any other Haven fans out there? Let me know what you think!

-attu


End file.
